


He Talks to Angels

by posingasme



Series: Muses and Angels [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist Castiel, Big Brother Dean, Big Brother Lucifer, Big Brother Michael, Human Castiel, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Meet the Family, Wealth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4024195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set 8 months after Night Musings, an invasion is coming. Castiel's wealthy, conniving older siblings, the twins Michael and Luke, as well as Sam's overprotective big brother Dean, are on their way for the weekend, to meet the new man in their kid brother's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Black Crows

**Author's Note:**

> "She tells you she's an orphan after you've met her family."
> 
> ~She Talks to Angels, The Black Crowes

Sam knew Dean was trying to be supportive. He knew that. This was Dean supporting him. And he appreciated it. But it was still a disaster waiting to happen. “Dude, it isn't even that big a deal, okay? It's just..."

"Just his grand opening at a gallery where all the rich hotshot snobs will be there to decide if he's any good? Just the thing that's going to decide the rest of his life?"

Sam couldn't argue with that. "You didn't come sit in the room while I took my LSATs."

"Would you have let me?"

This made him laugh. Because that was entirely, utterly, wonderfully Dean. He would have been there in the room to flash him grins and winks the whole test. He would have been obnoxious and bored, but he would have been there, because that's what Dean was all about, being there and being proud for Sam.

"Remember sitting through _Our Town_ when I was in tenth grade? God, I was awful."

"No. It was cute. You were good."

And that was it. Dean was always convinced he was amazing at everything...except judging people. "Look, you just want to come use his already raw nerves to scare the crap out of him. Don't pretend you're coming to be supportive. It isn't my art!"

Dean's voice quieted, but deepened in that way that said he had already made his decision. "Sam, it isn't your art. But it's an important night for someone who is important to you, and I plan to be there. You can think whatever you want about my motives. You haven't let me meet him, and you've been dating him for going on eight months. So either you're embarrassed by him or you're ashamed of me, and it can't be him because you can dump him but you can't divorce your brother."

He rolled his eyes, taking his phone away from his ear long enough to say a silent prayer for patience. "Firstly, I know your motives. I know you. Secondly, I'm not ashamed of either of you. And lastly, I can absolutely divorce you. We divorced Dad years ago when he went to live with the Milligans while I was still in high school. So don't push your luck."

"I'll see you Saturday, Sammy."

"Don't dress in jeans!" he cried out in exasperation as the line went dead in his hands. He sighed and slumped into a chair. This was going to be a disaster.

***

"Michael, I told you I don't want you making any calls. And I sure as hell don't want you to call Dad back from wherever the hell he is. Where the hell is he anyway? Top a mountain or on a beach? Is this a purification month or a hedonism month?"

"Don't be disrespectful. Dad has worked hard his whole life, and he can spend retirement any way he wants to."

Luke snorted inelegantly. "He can go be a zen monk or a geisha for all I care."

Castiel looked wearily at the other side of his screen, and he could see Michael's eyes shift too. Excellent. Luke was going to be a child again, which in turn would make Michael turn on his ever-suffering, holier than everyone routine.

"Luke, you are the most ungrateful prick. Everything you have is because Dad gave it to you."

"Only because he gave it all to you first, you self-righteous hypocrite! Don't pretend I'm the only trust fund kid! Just because you went and took over the business like the good son-"

"Which you had every opportunity to do! He wanted you to succeed him, not me! I _am_ the good son, but you were always the favorite, always meant to be heir to this whole-"

"Guys! Shut up! You're thirty years old! Would you get over yourselves already? You shared a womb. You can't share a goddamn Skype screen?"

The twins blinked as though they had forgotten Castiel was even among them.

"Jesus. It's no wonder Dad spends all his time in Asia!" He sighed. "Mike, I'm serious. Don't pull anything for this exhibit."

A slow smile came over Luke's face, and after a beat, it was mirrored on Michael's. Castiel felt his stomach churning. The only time the twins worked together on anything was to make his life difficult.

"Fine, little brother," Luke said smoothly. "No problem! But we're coming."

"What?" His normally deep voice squeaked, and he hated it. "No! What's wrong with you? Why would you come?"

"Do we need a reason to support our baby brother?" Luke asked with wicked sweetness.

Michael was more subtle. "Castiel, you haven't let me meet this man you're seeing. I had to squeeze it out of cousin Gabe that you're getting serious. Luke and I would like to meet him."

"No. Not now. Not while I'm trying to put on my first professional exhibit. Mike, this is everything to me! Please don't make it more stressful!"

"Your pretty Professor Anael going to be there? Saw her on the website-"

"Luke!" Castiel's calm was failing him. "Don't you dare! You are not taking Dr. Anael! I won't let you!"

"We'll let her make her own decisions."

He put his hand over his eyes. "Luke, she is the most incredible artist I have ever known. She's been my mentor for four years. If you ruin that because you're trying to chase tail, I swear I will call Dad and make him cut you off so that no hospital will treat you once I've kicked your ass."

Michael was laughing now. "That was the most convoluted threat-"

"And you! My god, Michael, if you ruin this for me...I know you wanted me to go into business or law, and you weren't thrilled to find out I'm dating men, but please. Please. This exhibit and this man are the best things to ever happen to me. If you care about me at all, please. Don't ruin this for me."

Michael enjoyed it when Castiel pleaded with him. Smug bastard. "Castiel," he said with an air of benevolence that had not fooled his little brother since he was five years old and the twins were thirteen. "You know I only want what's best for you!"

Castiel put his face down into his hands. He could still feel Michael's eyes and hear Luke laughing.

***

Sam had never seen Castiel’s eyes so wild with worry. It made him sick to see it, especially knowing he was about to make things exponentially worse. “How can I help?” he asked quietly.

Castiel was staring out at the open space of the gallery with a lost look on his face. “There’s nothing else I can do. I’ve readjusted everything four times. I’ve changed my mind about thirteen pieces, and changed it back about all thirteen. I can’t even…There’s nothing else. I can’t change anything now. Sam, I’m going to throw up.”

It was breaking his heart to hear him talking like this. Castiel’s normal confidence and good humor were entirely absent, and his ever-present smirk was replaced with exhaustion. Sam took him in his arms inside the empty gallery. “Cas, this whole thing is amazing! You can’t change anything because you’re done. Because it’s perfect. Look at this. I’m so proud of you!”

The blue gaze lifted under dark brows pulled together in tension. “Yeah?”

The fact that Castiel was even looking for his encouragement made Sam sigh. “Absolutely.” He pulled his lover to sit on the floor, surrounded by the work that encapsulated Castiel’s soul. The artist leaned against him heavily, and Sam kept him pulled in tight to his body, Castiel’s back to his chest. “Do you remember the first time you noticed me?”

Finally, he could hear a tiny smile creep into Castiel’s voice, and there was immediate relief in his shoulders. “Of course. You shot down my argument in Abner’s class.”

Sam’s mouth curved, and he let his chin rest on Castiel’s head. “You ever wonder when I first noticed you?”

“What? It wasn’t while you were pointing out how short-sighted I am about intellectual properties law and rights of artists and the public?”

He laughed quietly. “No. I could do that in my sleep.”

“You did sometimes. Abner’s bane. You’d come in after your criminal law class and collapse into the desk and zone out, but every time you had to give an answer, it was so logical, he just stopped bothering to call on you because you killed off every class debate we had, while making your disdain for artists painfully clear.”

“I harbor no disdain for artists like you. Just stupid ones.”

“Right. I forgot. Just the stupid ones.” He slipped his own hand over Sam’s. “So? When did you first notice the awkward senior with bedhead wandering campus?”

“If you mean my beautiful angel with sex hair? It wasn’t even in class. Honestly, I kind of…”

“Didn’t even see me in class? Ignored my existence? Shot down my debates with your eyes shut and your head not even off the desk? Missed every solitary signal I sent you? Couldn’t have been less interested if I had been sitting on the other side of campus? Wouldn’t have noticed if I’d been sitting in your lap?”

Sam’s face was burning pink. “Shut up. Jackass. I just didn’t…”

“Pay attention? Care? Have any interest whatsoever in the guy racing across the dell to get into class in time to watch you walk in? Didn’t have any attraction in the slightest for the poor artist who alternated between closing his eyes to listen to your voice and refusing to blink because he might miss you smirking at another poor art student?”

“God, you make me sound like an asshole.”

“Which part wasn’t true?”

“Okay, all of that might be true. But only because by the time I got to I.P., I had already gone through Dr. Visyak’s medieval studies and Dr. Gadreel’s criminal law, and I was so burned out. And be fair; I didn't need to be awake for I.P. Me being oblivious and exhausted has nothing to do with whether or not I found you attractive once I did see you.”

Castiel laughed and curled in as if he could get closer to Sam than he already was. “Sure, sure. Whatever, Adonis. You don’t have to pretend you're not way out of my league. It’s all right. Go on. When did you first notice me? Tell the truth. Was it before or after we had sex for the first time?”

Sam attacked the sensitive area under Castiel’s knee and was rewarded with great satisfaction by the echoing yelp he gave. “New rule. Jackasses get tickled.”

The artist huffed at him, and threw a sharp elbow into his chest. “New rule. Ticklers get punched.”

He snickered, and put one hand out to brace them on the floor as he settled Castiel back onto his chest. “You were painting your black crows.”

“As opposed to all those pink crows I’ve painted.”

“Screw you. I’m trying to tell you when you first took my breath away. It’s romantic. Now shut up.”

Castiel laughed at him.

“You were painting outside on the ground. Remember?”

“Of course. But I don’t remember you being anywhere around while I was doing that.”

Sam pinched him on the arm. “See? I’m not the only one oblivious sometimes. You were so focused on your crows that I probably could have been lying naked five feet away, and you wouldn’t have noticed me.”

“If you’d been five feet away, everything from the knees down would still have been  _in_ my way.”

“Cas!” he snapped.

His lover laughed happily, and turned to kiss him over his shoulder. “Okay. I was on my hands and knees, outside the art studios, messing with color blends. So?”

“So your shirt was off, jackass.”

“And?”

“And nothing. I literally walked into a tree.”

Castiel sat back and stared at him, an enormous grin spreading across his face. “What?”

Sam’s blush was feverish. “You heard me. I walked into a tree because I was turned back to stare at you.”

“I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I am not saying that again. There’s a reason I hadn’t told you before now. But I thought you’d appreciate laughing at my expense today.”

“Wait. When the hell was this? I mean, I remember working on the crows, but when…?”

Sam cringed. “About two weeks before Charlie gave you my number. She knew who you were, because she was there with me when I went ass over tea kettle slamming into the vegetation outside Stark Hall.”

Castiel was shaking with quiet laughter by this point, and he sputtered on his question. “You-you actually fell?”

“You’re making me sorry I told you.”

“Oh, my god. Sam, yes, I needed this today. You are so amazingly adorable. I can picture it!”

“Officially sorry I told you.”

The artist grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him through giggles. “No,” he breathed, “no, I’m so glad you did. God, I love you. So Charlie knew? She knew you were interested?”

“Yeah. And then she didn’t tell me you asked for my number. Any true friend would have warned me, having seen the way I apparently react to you catching me off guard.”

“My god, you’re just perfect, you know that? I suffered through a painful crush on you for months, then you went and almost damaged yourself all in a few seconds.”

“I _was_ damaged. I had bruises.”

Castiel raised himself up onto his knees and crawled over him. “My poor baby,” he purred. “Let me kiss it all better.”

“It’s been eight months, asshole. It’s healed.”

“But the ego hasn’t,” Castiel pointed out. “And that’s probably stored around here, isn’t it?”

Sam made an undignified noise at the placement of Castiel’s long fingers. “Hey! Public place, Arch! Get off me!” 

The artist sulked, but he removed himself. “Then take me home,” he sighed. “I’ve done as much as I can do tonight. I’ll just stand here tomorrow night, and think about my stunning shoulders making you slam into a tree while my brothers are in here ruining my show. It’ll help.”

As they stood and brushed themselves off, Sam chewed on his lip. Castiel was locking the door behind him with his loaned key before Sam could make himself speak. “Yeah. About your brothers coming.”

“Sam, I told you. Just agree with everything Michael says, and pretend Luke is funny. It’ll be fine. Just get through it, and I will reward you with mind-blowing-"

“My brother’s coming too.”

Castiel froze. Then, very slowly, his lips parted. “Your what’s what-ing what?”

Under any other circumstances, Sam would have loved to have teased him about that sentence. Instead, he cringed. “Yeah. Dean’s coming tomorrow.” He shrugged and forced a nauseated smile onto his face. “Surprise?”

“This is not happening to me.”


	2. Well Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is coaxed to sleep and Castiel is left wide awake with worry.

Castiel glanced over at Sam. The man had tried. He really had. But there was no reason for them both to go without sleep, simply because Castiel was eating his heart out. So when he realized Sam was trying to stay awake until the artist passed out, he had been touched, and also determined not to let him.

There were a few things which never failed to override Sam's stubborn consciousness. One was an enthusiastic round of oral favor, which he had administered as soon as the man had finished showering. Another was a patient massage, and Castiel was finishing that now. Sam had not stood a chance.

With his sweet lover snoring face down into the pillow, Castiel was free to lie on his back dreading tomorrow. He slid his gaze to the clock and sighed as the offensively red numbers glared three thirty-two at him. He cringed. So not tomorrow. Today.

Did Dr. Anael ever still get this nervous about showing her work? He wanted to ask her, but he was also still smitten enough with her to not want to admit how nervous he was. Dr. Anael was the greatest living artist, so far as Castiel was concerned. She was a major reason he had ended up at this university, in hopes of just taking a class with her, and now she was his mentor. She was also impossibly prolific. He followed her work as closely as he could, and even he could not keep up with the sheer amount of product she put out. It was mind blowing, the pace at which Dr. Anael created beauty and madness, from every material she touched. Yet, she was always there to encourage and mentor her favorite protégés. Castiel received an unfair portion of her attention, he knew, and he would never forget to be grateful for it.

His favorite song was Dr. Anael's soft hum as she looked over some new creation that Castiel dared call art in her presence. He could tell everything in that initial hum, whether the part of his soul he had intended to break off and mold had served its purpose well, or if it had fallen flat and tarnished under his incompetence.

It had been Dr. Anael who had first seen the transformation Castiel had undergone this year. She had turned to him one night in the studio, long after every other artist had stumbled home, after hours of sharing space and energy with one another as they each worked on their own projects.

"Castiel."

He had startled upon hearing her voice in the silence, but continued without missing a brushstroke. "Yes, ma'am."

"Your muse. Does it have a name?"

He smiled to himself. He appreciated that his mentor was trying to be ambiguous with her pronouns, but he had never hidden his taste for men. "Sam. You mean Sam. He's been...more than inspiring. He's incredible."

"He's good to you?"

"He's like no one I've ever even imagined. Sam is..." He shrugged. "I can't even...Were you ever in love?"

She smiled thinly. "I don't know. Thought I was once or twice. But I think maybe some of us are meant to be our own soulmates. I like the sex, but at the end of the night, I really would rather be in my studio. I enjoy my own company, and I find love in my work."

The idea that Dr. Anael's true soulmate was her own art, the dark majesty she made for herself, had inspired an entire series of Castiel's paintings for the exhibit.

She glanced at him, then returned her gaze to her piece. "But you're not one of those, Castiel. So I'm glad you found love for yourself. Your work has just bloomed over the past several weeks. Your focus is impressive. And I can see Sam's influence on your confidence. That makes all the difference. I'm proud of you, Castiel."

He had not been able to breathe properly for the rest of his time in the studio that night. A head full of Dr. Anael's praise and a heart full of love for Sam was the greatest chemical combination in the world.

Castiel stared down at his lover's back, steadily moving with each breath. Sam had turned his squished face toward him now, and had reached up to hold the pillow with both arms. The toned arms and back and shoulders, and the adorable smashed cheeks would ordinarily make Castiel's heart flutter and his skin cry in want.

But tonight, all he could think about was this man's brother.

There was no mistaking the obvious hero worship in Sam's voice when he talked about Dean. Sam talked about his brother at every opportunity, and nearly always with equal parts eye roll and grin. When they were alone, sometimes Castiel got to hear the serious stories, about how hurt Sam had been when John had missed Christmas one year, and how Dean had tried to correct for it. Or how devastated Dean had been to find out about Adam Milligan.

"That was the moment I would take back and bury if I could go back in time. Dean was...I thought it would kill him. Then, when he insisted on meeting the kid, found out the things Dad had done for him that he had never done for Dean...I remember the kid saying Dad took him to a baseball game for his birthday, and then asked Dean what Dad had done for him on his birthday, and Dean couldn't even speak, just gave this pitiful smirk and...It hurt so bad to watch it. I think I could have accepted Adam, could have given him a chance to be family, except for Dean's eyes every time he looked at the kid. He's always been my protector, and I just wanted to hide him from all of this, to keep it from hurting him. Broke my heart. There's nothing I wouldn't do to never see him hurt like that again."

Castiel had taken his hand in silence.

Sam smiled at him gratefully. "And when Dad decided...I don't know, that they needed him more than we did, that we were a lost cause, that we were old enough to not need a dad...I might have been able to forgive him that. Might've been able to even see it like he was doing right by a kid he had a responsibility to...Except when he told us, I saw how Dean's whole chest caved in, his shoulders went round for a minute like Dad had punched him in the stomach. Then he straightened up and told him good, that he was glad he was stepping up for his son, but if he was going, he shouldn't come back, because it wasn't fair to jerk Sammy around like that. That he would take care of me, get me through high school, that he hoped Dad would be happy in his new family, but if he walked out that door, he better never come back."

"And has he? Come back?"

The man shook his head. "If he's tried, Dean hasn't said so. When he realized Dean wouldn't cash his checks, he started sending cash and gift cards. Dean sends every penny straight to me and says he doesn't care what I use it for, because he doesn't need Dad's money to pay our bills."

Dean was everything to Sam. Everything. It wasn't like his relationship with his own brothers. Who knew what that was? Sam and Dean were one another's entire family. Castiel had one chance to make an impression with Sam's family, and that was it.

And it was just a few hours from now, on a day which was already promising to be the most stressful of his life so far, while his older brothers were lurking about.

Sam was worth it. No doubt about that. If today resulted in his death by stress-induced heart attack or embarrassment, it would all have been worth it.


	3. Golddigger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam realizes just how wealthy Castiel's family actually is, and for the first time, he feels anxiety about meeting Michael and Luke.

Sam watched Castiel stare at himself in the mirror. His face was gray, and he looked as though he might throw up any moment. The man had gotten up hours before Sam had awoken, and dyed the tips of his dark hair deep blue, and spiked it, for seemingly no reason other than the fact that he needed something to do beyond just worrying. Fortunately, it looked incredible. Very thin blue eyeliner, his tiny blue eyebrow piercing, and a silver lip ring were added as Sam watched from the bed, to accompany the multiple ear piercings hiding under his wayward hair. Over a v-neck charcoal tee and dark distressed jeans with black belt, Castiel slipped into a tight black suit jacket with three quarter sleeves, and asymmetrical, random zippers running down the sides of it. Finally, the man sat on the bed to pull on his socks and black leather army boots. The finishing touches were a set of silver rings on three of his fingers.

“Going for subtle today, then, huh?”

The glare Castiel gave him was nearly lethal.

He laughed and pushed himself up on his elbows. “You look unbelievable,” he promised. “You know you do.”

“I know I’m going to vomit the minute the gallery opens.”

“No you’re not,” Sam soothed. “I won’t let you. So did you sleep at all last night?”

“Do I look like I slept at all last night?”

“You look great. You sound bitchy.”

The artist sighed and sat next to Sam. “If I die today, you should know that I love you.”

Sam winced at the sincerity in his lover’s voice. “You’re not going to die.”

“I’ve given it a lot of thought. And I think there’s a significant possibility. So I just want you to know.”

He sat up next to Castiel and kissed him on the lips. “I love you too. So don’t die. Come on. I gotta get dressed too. Did you leave me any hot water?”

“I took my shower at quarter to five. There should be plenty by now.”

Sam sighed and stood. “Cas, you really didn’t sleep at all, did you?”

“I’m going to screw something up today, Sam. I just don’t know what yet. I’m thinking it’ll probably be meeting your brother. Could be my entire art career. Might be any remaining relationship with my own family. Possibly my professional dynamic with Dr. Anael. Most likely your brother, though. I’m pretty sure. If he hates me, can I at least have a few nights of transition sex before you dump me?”

Before Sam could answer, Castiel’s phone began buzzing.

“Yeah, what, Gabe?” He tapped the speaker option so he could use his hands to rub at his temples.

“Hey, baby cousin!”

“Jesus, Gabe, not today. Since when are we cousins? You haven’t called me that for-“

“Since my big cousins Mikey and Luke are flying in for the show, Cassie! Nothing like having the twins in the same room to give you a little perspective on how everything could always get a little bit worse, am I right?”

Castiel closed his eyes. “Gabe, I’m aware of how horrendous this situation is. If you called just to laugh at me…”

“Oh, I ain’t laughing, kiddo. But I am going to give you the best offer you’re going to get today. Unless Sam’s planning on making himself useful by reducing some of your frustration before the show.”

Sam tried not to snicker. He was brushing his teeth with the door open, listening to Castiel and his roommate chatting, and watching his lover through the mirror.

“Gabe, I’m hanging up on you.”

“No, I’m serious. I’m going to bring Kali to the opening, and we’re going to run some interference for you with the guys. We were going to wait to go see the exhibit next week, but if Mike and Luke are-“

The sigh seemed to empty out Castiel entirely. “Thank god, Gabriel. I owe you. I owe you anything you could possibly want.”

“Don’t thank me yet. They’re still going to make nuisances of themselves. It’s like they can’t help it. But you dodge and I’ll deflect, and between Michael scolding me for not rising to my potential and Luke getting shot down by Kali, I’ll see if I can keep them out of your hair. What’d you do to it for today, by the way?”

The relief was bringing color back to Castiel’s face. “Thank you, Gabe. What? What did I do to what?”

“Your hair.”

Sam laughed. “He dyed it blue and spiked it out. He’s in full punk mode today,” he called.

Gabriel joined in the laughter. “Guyliner too?”

“Of course. It’s kind of devastating.”

Castiel tried to glare, but this time, it came with a blush.

“I probably won’t be able to tear my eyes off him to look at any of the art. Good thing I got a preview yesterday.”

Gabriel snorted. “Speaking of things to watch, Kali’s going to have a field day with Luke, Cassie. It’ll be fun. I should bring popcorn. You know she calls him Lucifer.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“Some days it is. Okay, gotta go. I just wanted to tell you I got Mike’s message that they’re flying in from opposite coasts, so I’m meeting them at the same hotel so we can all ride together like a real family. It’s going to be awesome.”

“Thank you, Gabe.” Castiel groaned suddenly. “Wait. Mike’s showing up at this thing…”

“In a limo. Of course he is. Mike doesn’t do subtle. But then, neither do you, Guyliner. See you tonight.”

“Thank you!” Castiel sighed as the call ended, and turned to his lover. “Gabe is the _least_ obnoxious person in my whole family. You know that, right?”

Sam laughed and leaned in to turn on the shower. “I’m getting the idea.”

“Sam.” Castiel was suddenly behind him, running his hands up and down his bare back, then kissing between the shoulder blades.

He held his hand in the water, waiting for it to warm, and wishing Castiel were not already dressed, so he could join him in the shower. “Yes, angel.”

A shiver went through Castiel and transferred itself to Sam’s own flesh. “God, I love it when you call me that.” He pressed his lips and nose into Sam’s skin. “Please don’t let my family get to you. They think having money is the only important thing in the world. We’re an old family, with old money, and eccentricity kind of runs in the blood. It must be connected to the asshole gene, because we all got that too.”

Sam laughed and stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain behind him. “Cas, I’m not worried about meeting your brothers. Not unless they can decide for you who you date.” He licked his lips, letting the water pour over him. “They can’t, right?”

“Of course not. I’d be unhappily married to an independently wealthy woman by now if that were the case. Someone from a family in the books.”

“What books?”

Castiel was laughing now, but it sounded slightly hysterical. “The Blue Books, Sam,” he said with a bitter tone. “The Social Register.”

Sam frowned as he washed his hair. “What’s that mean?”

“The list of families that are acceptable to a family like mine.”

In the heat of the water, Sam froze. He forced himself to take a breath and continue. His hands moved automatically to rinse out his hair, and he finished the rest of his shower in silence.

“Sam?”

He shut the water off finally, and reached for his towel. When he stepped out of the shower, he could see that Castiel had moved to sit on the bed, looking forlornly into the steamy bathroom. Sam’s heart was pounding.

“Sam. You need to say something.”

He tied his towel around his waist and met Castiel’s blue eyes. “Are you telling me that your family is on the Social Register? The _actual_ fucking Social Register?”

“Yes?” Castiel said miserably. “I mean…Yeah.”

“Ah.”  

“Sam?” 

“Cas, when did you plan to tell me you are from one of the wealthiest, most elite families in the country?”

“Never. If I could help it. Or possibly as a card to play if you ever wanted to leave me. I could try to win you back with promises of more money than you know what to do with.”

Sam dressed quietly, and this time, Castiel did not interrupt the silence. He pulled on his dark suit over his green button-down shirt, and left the top two buttons undone to make the whole thing professional but causal. Besides, if he had tried to put on his tie right now, he would probably not have been able to breathe at all. As it was, he was having trouble swallowing while he brushed out his hair.

At last, he turned back to Castiel, who looked like a miserable black cat stuck out in the rain. “I didn’t even know the Social Register still existed. I thought that was seventy years ago or something.”

“It doesn’t mean anything. Not to me. Not to most of us anymore. It’s just a matter of status.”

He nodded slowly, and paused again to pull on his socks and dress shoes, and to add his glasses to the mix, since he was not up for putting on his contacts after so little sleep. Then he turned back to his lover. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You don’t want to know-"

“Of course I do!” Sam snapped. “Of course I want to know! But I’m not going to ask.”

Castiel nodded and his lips went into a thin line. “I hate this,” he muttered.

“It’s fine. It’ll all be fine. Just get through tonight, okay?”

But Castiel could hear the tightness in his voice. “Sam, please don’t judge me by my family. I’m grateful for everything my father has done for me, and everything his father and his father’s father did. I have opportunities other people can’t dream about, and I’m really, truly grateful for that. I’m not some spoiled rich kid who doesn’t understand that other people don’t live like I do. I’m not some soulless, materialistic waste like some people who have money like we’ve got. I’ve never let my family’s influence get me anything, and I use most of my allowance on art supplies. Since I was thirteen, I’ve spent every summer on a volunteer trip to places like Haiti and Nicaragua and Belize, to do manual labor building schools and hospitals, because I don’t want to lose sight of the suffering out there. I spend every winter holiday working with the children’s shelter out on Pebble Street, because I need to be connected to kids who need. Other kids in my situation are out skiing the Alps. I’m trying to keep my eyes open, trying to do some good. Please, Sam. I’m not my family. I’m not my last name or my bank account. I’m just Castiel. And I love you.”

Sam’s stare softened throughout Castiel’s speech. He had known the man’s family had money, that he never had the financial worries other students had. But he had never thought to wonder exactly how much money he did have. Castiel was a beautiful soul, and one of the things Sam had loved about him immediately was finding out how much volunteer work he did, home and abroad. Castiel was empathetic in a way that made Sam feel like he knew every emotion flowing through every human nearby. “And I love you,” Sam responded finally. He smiled. “So you’re a rich, white boy dressed in punk.”

Castiel grinned, relief flooding his face. “It looks good on me.”

There was no way Sam could argue with that.


	4. Grateful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment Sam and Castiel share just before meeting up with Dean.

“You warned him, didn’t you?” Castiel whispered.

Sam glanced down at him with amusement. “About what?”

“That I’m kind of a freak?”

“He’s seen a photo of us,” Sam laughed.

A shiver of anxiety ran through him. “He has? What photo? When did we ever take a photo?”

Sam’s hand reached down to clutch his. “Cas, relax. You’re doing that weird thing you do when you’re nervous. Deep voice going shrill with no breath, like you’re going to pass out any minute.”

“Awesome. Weird and shrill. Exactly what I was going for. Thank you. I needed the extra confidence right now. You know exactly how to make me feel worthy. My own personal fucking Oprah. Thank you.” He watched his boots as they walked. Why the hell did they think meeting Dean early was a good idea? Why not spend his last hours before dying of humiliation with his tongue on his boyfriend instead of beginning the suffering early?

The boyfriend at issue was still laughing at him. “The photo was from the St. Patrick’s Day thing. Remember? Charlie took it.”

A lump of weight dropped into Castiel’s stomach. “Oh. Excellent. So he’s seen me drunk and shirtless.”

“I showed him the one with your shirt still on.”

“Awesome.” At the door to the gallery, Castiel stopped Sam by grabbing his arm. “Sam,” he whined. He hated what he sounded like right now. People all over the world were struggling to just live, and here he was, handed everything his whole life, with a gorgeous man who wanted him to meet his family, a professional art exhibit to display his soul and a mentor like Dr. Anael to bring in the most prestigious art critics and most important contacts an artist could want, two brothers and a cousin who loved him enough-or at least wanted to make sure he didn’t make an idiot out of himself enough-to attend the exhibit opening…Castiel took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m grateful. I really am,” he whispered, almost to himself.

Sam took hold of each side of his face, and ducked his head down to kiss him. “Grateful for what, angel?”

 _Angel_. Castiel closed his eyes. He could remember every moment Sam’s delicious mouth had used that word. Sometimes, early in their relationship, and even now when he was away from his lover, he would sit and imagine the way Sam’s lips moved around that word. Those lips had danced around the word _angel_ during kisses, breathing something ethereal and celestial into Castiel’s mouth, or while they were moving across Castiel’s trembling skin. It was spoken sweetly or to take the edge off sarcasm. Castiel would never understand why that was the pet name Sam had chosen for him, but he loved it, loved everything about it. It made him feel as though at least Sam thought he was deserving of the love of a beautiful, brilliant man.

“Angel?”

And there it was again. Castiel sighed.

“Grateful for what?”

The blue eyes opened slowly. “I’m just grateful,” he breathed, and this time, he felt it. He stared up at Sam with intense affection and adoration. He worshipped this man. He couldn’t help it. He would never be able to describe it, the reason he loved Sam so much. Of course he was beautiful; of course he was brilliant. But it could not be explained why Castiel felt so fiercely protective of him, at the same time as he surrendered all pride and self-control to the large man. “Sam?” he said quietly. “I know you don’t…you know…care about art. You care about me, and so you act like you care about my work.”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Castiel’s hand went up.

“It’s okay, babe. I know. I just want you to see…there’s a piece in here I did after the first time we spoke on the phone. That night we stayed up talking all night long. And then there’s one I did just a week ago, after that bath we tried to take together.”

His lover chuckled. “It was meant to be romantic. We just can’t both fit anywhere.”

“I know. It was adorable. So there are two pieces, side by side, one of the moment you realized I was a complete idiot for you, and the other when I realized I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life.”

Hazel eyes widened, and Sam’s lips parted wet and soft.

Castiel tore his eyes away from those lovely lips and cleared his throat. “I just want to point them out to you. I know…” He laughed shyly. “I know they won’t mean crap to you. It’s abstract. But it’s everything to me. Everything that’s us. I suck with words. You’re the one who can talk. I just want you to see them, and see if you can feel how much I love you. And that…if everything goes right, or at least if everything doesn’t go wrong, if I can get a teaching fellowship or something, and ply my art, if I know I can take care of you without my family money, so you’ll be free to do whatever you want with your own income…”

Sam was smiling now, with the sweet look on his face that said he thought Castiel was being cute, and that Castiel was rambling unnecessarily.

 He swallowed hard. “Anyway, if I can prove to myself, and to you, that I can do that, I want to…You know, if I don’t completely fuck up with your brother, and embarrass you or something…I think I’d like…You’ve got law school, so I’m not saying right now, but I could go anywhere and do what I do, no reason I couldn’t. I know we don’t talk about what we’re doing in the future, because it’s too stressful, but…”

“Cas,” Sam whispered, touching his cheek lightly.

The man blinked hard and then looked directly into Sam’s eyes. “I’d like to get married. Would you…would you want to get married? To me?” he added, as if that important point might not have been clear.

Soft lips were on his before he could blink. And, god, if this was Sam’s way of letting him down easy, he would take it. Sam’s fingers were drifting down his throat in the way that always made him shiver. He felt himself lose the battle and let his eyes slip closed, and the whole world ceased to exist. Everything was Sam’s fingertips and his hair falling to brush against Castiel, and his lips, the sweet, delicious, lovely lips that called him angel. Castiel could have stayed like this forever, never certain of Sam’s yes, but at least never in danger of his no, and he could just feel him for eternity.

Then the lips were breaking apart from him, and he let out a whimpered breath, and rocked back on his heels, gripping Sam’s arm for balance because everything was suddenly dizzy and disorienting.

“I’d like that too,” Sam said quietly.

The world was suddenly too bright and Castiel squinted up at him. The light of day was haloed around Sam’s hair. A delirious giggle bubbled out of Castiel’s throat. “You look like the angel,” he muttered.

Sam laughed at him. “We’ll talk more. Okay? Let’s go in. But, Cas?”

  “Yes, my love,” he said happily.

“I’ll be proud to be the husband of Castiel Arch. And not only because he’s a genius.”

He held the door for Sam, and he gulped in several breaths of air before following him into the gallery lobby, where another man turned and grinned at him charismatically. Anxiety still curled around him and squeezed, but he physically shook it off. No matter what else happened today, he had Sam’s kiss, his words, and his promise. And really, nothing else even mattered.

Castiel took one last deep breath, and stepped into the gallery lobby.


	5. Vehicles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is introduced.

Sam's heart was pounding as they entered the lobby from the outside. So many things were happening all at once, and he was having difficulty breathing, but he had to hold it together for Castiel. His lover- _his fiancé?!_ -needed him to be the calm and collected one today, and he would do that.

He gave Dean an involuntary grin, and received one in return. He let his brother wrap strong arms around him, and he sighed happily.

Dean was the bar set for every man in his life, always would be. He could never say that, of course, because Dean would be stupid about it. But then, he had noticed that a lot of Dean's female companions resembled their mother in one way or another. Sam would never settle for a man who could not treat him the way Dean would treat someone he cared about, and he had little patience for someone who was not strong and hardworking, because he had grown up with Dean. He had put off Dean meeting Castiel; he realized that now. But he was confident Dean would see what he saw himself, a passionate genius who adored him, who was unafraid of hard work.

Dean smacked him on the back hard, and Sam laughed and leapt back as a fist headed for his stomach. "Getting kind of soft there, kiddo," was Dean's greeting.

Castiel tilted his head in confusion.

Sam appreciated that Castiel thought he was no such thing. "I'm not soft. I work out six days a week. You're the one putting on pudge. You'll have a full-blown beer gut if you keep hanging out with Bobby!"

Instead of irritation, Dean's eyes held amusement. "I'm in better shape than I've ever been. Looking to score a hot art snob, preferably a cougar who has more money than she knows what to do with."

Sam could practically hear Castiel blushing. He smiled. "Dean, this is Cas. Cas, my big brother Dean. Dean, don't be an asshole."

Dean's cackle filled the lobby. He reached for Castiel's hand.

Sam could see he was gripping tighter than he really needed to. He rolled his eyes. "He makes his living with those hands, Dean. Don't break them."

The older man sneered. "Good to finally meet you, Cas."

The artist licked his lips and nodded. When Dean finally released his hand, he began to play at one of his silver rings. "And you too, sir."

Sam sighed. "He's like three years older than you, Cas. You don't have to-"

"No, no," Dean grinned wickedly. "No, he's got the right idea. Where I'm from, that's just respect."

The younger brother stared at him. "Dean, we're not from anywhere."

"Of course we are. Where are you from, Cas?"

His angel took a breath. "I'm...from Massachusetts. But I lived a lot of my life in New York City, and in San Francisco."

For the first time, Dean's expression seemed less than conceited. "You have family on both coasts, huh?"

Sam licked his lips in sympathy for Castiel's, which were turning white as the rest of him reddened. "Come on, Dean. Let's grab some lunch. You can interrogate him while you're feeding us."

Dean nodded slowly, eyes level on Castiel, who was staring at his rings. "Yeah. Of course. What time's this thing open anyway?" he asked, gesturing to the locked inner doors which led to the galleries.

"Seven," Castiel said quickly.

Green eyes flicked to Sam, then Dean put his arm around Castiel's shoulders. "What do you drive?"

"A, uh, a Camero ZL1."

"Huh. Bitchin.' You drive here?"

Sam sighed.

"No. Sam drove."

Dean pushed Sam out of the way. "Sammy, you go ahead and meet us at the restaurant. I'll follow you. Cas is going to come with me."

Sam shot the man a warning look as he got out his keys. "Don't...be...an asshole," he hissed again.

"What? I'm going to chat with him about how he likes the ZL1! Can't blame a car guy for that!"

Castiel looked extremely uncomfortable in Dean's grip, but he smiled at Sam. "Someplace that sells drinks, Sam?" he suggested dryly.

At last, Sam laughed. Castiel could handle himself. He gave his hand a quick squeeze, and hurried to his own vehicle. No matter what Dean tried, Castiel had just told him he wanted to spend their lives together. Dean couldn't mess that up even if he wanted to.

All the same, Sam hurried to the sports bar. No reason to push his luck.


	6. Trash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean lays out some bait.

"So," Dean began as they settled into the Impala, "tell me all about the great, mysterious Castiel Arch."

The man beside him was staring down at the rings on his hands. "Not much to tell. I'm not mysterious, and I'm not great. Just an artist, in love with your brother."

Dean tried not to smile at that. If that was how Castiel summed up his entire existence, there probably wasn't much for a big brother to worry about. But he was Dean Winchester, and, more importantly, his brother was Sam Winchester, so that meant there could be no doubt. Sam was special. Dean wasn't about to let someone less than honest, less than worthy, get too close. Sam's judgement had a spotty record, to say the least.

"Is that the only question you're planning on asking? Or have I already failed the test and there's no point in continuing? Is there an appeals process?"

This time, Dean did laugh. "You've been hanging out with the pre-laws too long."

From the corner of his eye, he saw the ghost of a smirk curl Castiel's lips. "Not nearly long enough," he corrected softly.

Dean nodded. He followed Sam's Cherokee without any trouble. He could see Sam's head turning up frequently, and knew the kid was trying to see in the rearview mirror how his boyfriend was doing.

"So?" Castiel sighed. "You want my portfolio? Because that pretty much says everything about me. I'm an artist, man. And as for your brother, I've got no clue why he likes me. I agree with you. He could do better."

He snickered, and shifted gears as Sam took a hill. "I didn't say that."

Castiel laughed, and it sounded bitter around the edges. "Would you feel better if you did?"

"You might not deserve him," Dean allowed coolly. "Doesn't mean he can do better. Not sure anybody deserves him."

"So where does that leave us?"

Dean was beginning to like how straightforward this guy was. Knowing he was an artist, Dean had wondered if he was about to meet some flighty new-age freak. And maybe Castiel looked a bit like Captain Hook from that show about the fairy tales that his sometimes girlfriend Lisa watched, or Captain Jack from those Caribbean movies Ben loved, but maybe Sam liked pretty-eyed pirates. Dean wasn't going to judge that. He didn't care what the guy looked like as long as he was clear about his role.

"What do you and Sammy do?"

Castiel seemed to choke on his own tongue.

As much as that amused Dean, he hurried to qualify his question. "Not that. God, never that. I already need brain bleach just being vaguely conscious of the fact that you're sleeping with him at all. No, I mean, for fun. Outside of sleeping together."

The man took a breath. "Uh, we both like music. We see concerts whenever we can. I'm into punk rock, he likes classic and country rock, but there's plenty we both enjoy. And he's a workaholic and so am I, so he comes a few times a week to the studio, and we just listen to music and he studies boring legal shit and physics, and I paint. We don't even talk really. I guess that seems dull to you."

Dean shrugged. It actually seemed kind of perfect for a guy like Sam. He was pleased that Sam felt so comfortable with someone that he could sit in content silence with him. That had only ever happened with Dean, so far as he knew. "Maybe," he responded. "What else?"

"I don't know. He likes to swim. Sometimes I'll go to the pool with him and read my textbooks while he does laps."

He snorted. "He looks like a baby moose when he swims."

"He looks incredible and incredibly happy when he swims."

"Hm. You got it pretty bad for this guy if you think my brother doesn't look like the gangliest drowned rat in the world when he's in a pool."

"I love your brother, Dean."

It was strange to hear it so matter of fact like that. "I'm getting that. So do you guys ever actually do anything together? Sounds like you study near one another and that's it."

Suddenly, Castiel was grinning. "You said you didn't want to know the good stuff."

Dean's shifting hand went up. "Nope! No, I don't."

He received a laugh. "We do stuff. Most Fridays, neither of us have classes, so we go to the mountains to bike. We jog together when he can convince me to get out of bed in the morning. And I really enjoy taking him out to eat after he finishes his work shifts. That's probably my favorite time with him outside of the studio." He flashed his grin at Dean again. "Assuming we're not going to talk about how hot he is while doing laps or in the bedroom."

"Which we are not!" But Dean was laughing too. It was not often any of Sam's boyfriends could smile and tease through Dean's interrogation. He was impressed. "But I gotta ask..."

"No. You don't. But I'm sure you will anyway," Castiel sighed.

"You ain't hurting for money, are you?"

"What makes you say that?"

Dean nodded. So this was it. This was the part where Castiel failed the honesty test. Too bad. He was starting to like the guy. "Just seems to me you have some expensive taste." Here was where Dean's research was about to play a role.

Castiel frowned and lowered himself in his seat. "What, the Camero? Dude, you're driving a '67 Impala in top condition. You like a little muscle too. What's the big deal?"

"Defensive? Why? Because I can see you're in boots my brother could never afford? Because a job wasn't something you mentioned when I asked about you? Because when I talked about finding a cougar with money, Sam turned a little pale? Oh, and you know. The Camero." Dean pulled the car to a stop beside Sam's in a restaurant parking lot.

Castiel shrugged as they both got out, and he stalked toward Dean. "Not clear on how it's any of your business. But yeah. My family has money." He snickered, and this time, it was dripping with bitterness. "I would have thought that would go in the plus column."

"What? Spoiled, entitled rich kid slumming with poor Kansas trash? No, sorry. Not a good-"

The next thing Dean knew, he was lying on the parking lot, unable to see from his left eye. He heaved himself up and shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He could hear Sam shouting, but it took a moment to piece together what had happened.

When he did, he burst into laughter.

Sam was holding Castiel's arm and shouting to be told what was going on. The punk with the blue tips was seething, obviously trying to keep himself from ripping his arm from Sam's grasp to hit Dean again.

Dean reached up to touch at his eye gingerly. "What's the matter, rich boy? Did I hit too close to home? Can't handle being called out on it? Bet nobody ever talked to you that way in your life."

Castiel's blue eyes flashed and his chest heaved. "Sam," he snarled, "I'm really sorry. But I can't."

"Can't what? What happened?"

The chin raised and the eyes bored into Dean's. "I'm not...Nothing, Sam. I'm sorry."

Dean watched him curiously.

"He might be right about me. But he doesn't know you very well at all. Excuse me." Castiel pulled out of Sam's grip and stormed away, toward the music store next to the restaurant.

Sam stared after him, then whirled on his brother. "What the actual hell?"

Dean smiled at him. "I think he really likes you, Sammy."

The younger man's hands flew up in bewilderment.

"I'll go apologize. You stay here."

"He wants to hit you again, jackass! You better give him time to cool off!"

"Nah. He didn't do nothing I didn't deserve. Maybe I didn't think he had it in him, but if he needs to hit me again, it'll be exactly what I got coming. Kid wouldn't even tell you what I said in case it hurt you to hear it. I think I like this guy, Sammy."

"You've got a fine way of showing it! What the hell did you say to him?"

Dean could feel his eye bruising already. "Just suggested he was slumming with poor white trash from Kansas. Apparently he didn't agree."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "You said that? What the hell is wrong with you? We aren't trash!"

"Well. You're not. And I know that. I wanted to know he knows it. He's Castiel Arch, dude. His dad is Carver Edlund Arch. His brothers are Michael and Luke Arch."

"So?" Sam looked thoroughly confused.

How could his brother be so brilliant and so clueless? "So they could buy Kansas. I don't like the idea of some guy thinking he owns you just because he's used to owning whatever he wants."

The younger man stepped back in surprise. "I didn't...I never thought..."

He nodded. "That's because you assume the best of everyone. And maybe this guy is the real deal. But big brothers are supposed to be the dicks who find out this stuff before it's too late. Hate me if you want, but at least you'll know how he sees you."

"Dean, I don't hate you. But I already knew how he sees me. Go apologize. If you don't make this right, I swear to God..."

"If I can't, he's not the guy I'm starting to think he is." Without another look at his brother's worried eyes, Dean walked toward the music store. Unlike his brother, Dean was an instinctive judge of character. He could usually tell in a glance if someone was genuine, if he was strong, if he had any passion. Those were the most important attributes he could want for Sam's friends.

Castiel had seemed guarded, but not as though he were hiding something, more like he was expecting something. And he had gotten defensive about money. If there was anything that could ruin two guys starting out together, it was such an enormous difference in finances and how they viewed money. If Castiel was anything like his famous brothers, he saw the world as his possession, and that included anyone in it. Sam had never had more than six bucks to his name. Dean had clawed for everything they had ever had, and Sam knew better than to take a single bite for granted. How could a man like Castiel, whose family could literally buy anyone they wanted, not take a good hearted, naïve man like Sam for granted?

Castiel was breathing deeply with his eyes closed just inside the store. Two employees were watching him with concern.

"Cas," Dean hissed. "I think you're frightening the natives."

The blue eyes flew open and flashed with renewed fury. "Sam send you after me?"

"No. Sam says I better let you cool down or you'll hit me again."

"Not very bright, are you?" Castiel spat.

Dean tried not to smile. "It's been said. You really clocked me. I've gotten in my fair share of fights in my time, and I think the only other guy that ever actually knocked me to the ground is your boyfriend."

Castiel snorted. Then he took a breath. "I shouldn't have chased the bait. I apologize. I'm at the height of my stress tolerance right now, and you said that horrible stuff about him. I can't..."

"Just the fact that you know I was baiting you means you're smarter than most, and you've got a cooler head than you seem. Of course I know my brother ain't poor trash, man. He ain't me or our Dad. Sam's something special. He's better than all of us. And I don't need some guy coming in thinking that because he's got the money, he gets to decide anything about my kid brother's life. Sam will never even be able to imagine the kind of money Carver Edlund Arch wields. And it would get real easy to fall into a dynamic where he felt indebted to you. And maybe where you liked him like that."

The man stared at him. "Are you kidding me? Absolutely I'll use my money."

Dean frowned severely.

"Dean, I will use absolutely any advantage I've got to keep your brother interested. I'm not above playing my family's game if that's what will make Sam stick around. You think I'm not going to use everything I have access to in order to keep his attention? I don't have much to offer your brother, Dean, but I'm sure as hell going to offer him everything I do have. That includes money. But you are the one underestimating Sam if you think he would ever feel indebted to me. I'm going to use my inheritance to give him everything in the world he could possibly want. But he will never need anything from anyone. I've accepted that. It only makes me try harder to be what he wants. He will never need me, Dean. Your brother is the strongest, most capable human I've ever known. He loves me. For now, he wants me. But he will never need anything I have."

The older man took a deep breath. "So when you said you'd use your money..."

"Wouldn't you? I'm not going to pretend I don't have money. That's stupid. It's like pretending I don't have hair. But I could lose either one any day, and I'm not sure it would make a bit of difference to that man out there. I want him to be happy. But I'm not the one who will make him happy. He's going to do that himself, and I'm going to be standing behind him, supporting him with everything I have, for as long as there's something about me he wants. Can you understand that?"

He was staring at this man, until he suddenly realized his eyes were stinging. He cleared his throat. "Of-of course I do. That's exactly how I feel."

Castiel sighed. "Then what the fuck are we fighting for? I'm hungry. And you know what Sam gets like when he hasn't eaten." He pushed past Dean and walked across the lot toward his boyfriend, who was waiting with a look on his face that said he was completely lost.

Dean shrugged in amazement, and followed. He had to admit, the guy was smart and genuine, for a punk pirate.


	7. What a Big Brother Does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gets a glance at what a set of close brothers looks like.

Castiel could see Dean wink at Sam with his good eye on their way in. Sam looked plenty pissed off, but he seemed to have his own temper in check. As they were seated in a booth, Castiel took the time to watch his lover. There was no art in the world that could move him the way Sam could, just with the tiniest expression. Castiel was tired, anxious and still angry, but a look at Sam's eyes calmed him instantly.

Dr. Anael had said she thought she had been in love a few times. Something in Castiel ached to lock himself in the studio and not come out until he could show his mentor what it was to love Sam Winchester. It would be his great masterpiece, though maybe it was impossible. He had once believed art could express anything if brought to life by the right hands. Now, he wasn't sure, and it thrilled him to think of the challenge of capturing the colors of Sam's eyes and the way they made him feel whenever they were turned toward him.

Dean was smiling at him like a cat. "You okay, Arch?"

He turned to the man very slowly with an icy stare. "Well, my hand hurts. How's the eye?" he snarled.

The older man laughed, displaying a set of perfect teeth where Castiel might have expected fangs. "It'll heal," he said simply. "Depth perception is a bit screwy, but I'll live."

Sam huffed in annoyance. "I should just leave you two to posture. Do I even need to be here for this?"

"No, but you're pretty, so stay and class up the joint," Castiel snapped.

Sam glowered at him, and Dean burst into a new round of laughter. "A4, Section C," Sam hissed.

Castiel sulked, pushing himself back in the bench and crossed his arms over his chest. "Whatever. There's got to be a clause in there that invalidates that if I've just had to break my hand on your brother's face."

"What the hell?"

He sighed. "Sam had to create a contract for one of his classes last semester, as part of his final project. Professor didn't care what it covered so long as it would hold up in court if it were breached. A lot of guys did roommate contracts and whatever. So Sam made a goddamn couple's contract."

Dean stared at his little brother, with what looked a little like awe. "You are the nerdiest person on the planet, you know that?"

"I don't care," Sam informed him airily. “He signed it, and as recently as this morning requested a renewal at the end of his term.”

Castiel blushed hot, but pointed a finger at him quickly. “With negotiation rights!” he reminded him firmly. 

Sam shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“What did he do that violated his contract just now?” Dean laughed.

“Isn’t my fault he’s pretty,” Castiel pouted.

Sam cleared his throat. “Party X will never refer to Party Y as any of the following, nor any variation thereof.”

“Pretty is one of the following,” he sighed.

Dean was cackling and demanding that Sam write one for him and Lisa, when the waitress made her appearance. Castiel watched Dean’s interaction with the young woman and leaned in to whisper to Sam. “I think Lisa might have a whole section about waitresses in any contract they make.” Sam snickered.

Then he heard something very strange. “No, it’s over at the Beacon Gallery. It’s supposed to be pretty amazing. I peeked at some of it through the glass. Guy’s impressive. I’ll tip you a ticket if you bring me my plate while it’s still hot.”

Castiel stared as the woman gushed at this. She and Dean continued chatting for a time, about how she was a photographer, but would never be able to get an exhibit at the Beacon in a hundred years. Dean nodded encouragement and winked at her when she had taken their orders and slipped away.  

Sam sipped at his water, then seemed to notice his boyfriend still staring at his brother. “Cas?” he hissed quietly. “You okay?”

“You just invited her to the gallery opening.”

Dean shrugged. “She said she’s on duty tonight, but she wants to go next week.”

“So…you weren’t just flirting with her?”

He leaned back on the bench, and for the first time, Castiel realized he looked weary. He wondered how far Dean had driven, and when he had arrived in town. “Only flirting because I’m never going to see her again. I got a girl back home. Don’t tell her I said that, Sammy. We’re still pretending we ain’t exclusive.”

Sam snorted a laugh.

But Castiel tilted his head at him. “Then why invite her to the gallery? You even said you’d tip her enough for entrance.”

“Sure. It’s a high end place. Waitress at a breakfast place don’t make enough for that.”

“But…”

Dean looked at Sam as if for a translation. The younger brother was smiling happily at his lover. “Cas, he’s bragging on you. It’s what big brothers do.”

“No,” he said, wondering if Sam was possibly very confused. “It isn’t.”

The older man shrugged again and stood. “I’m going to hit the head. Don’t steal my bacon, Sasquatch.”

“No promises,” Sam shot back without even looking away from Castiel’s face.

Castiel’s gaze followed Dean until he was out of sight. “No, Sam,” he murmured. “I’m serious. What was he doing?”

There was something between amusement and a spark of sadness in his eyes when he responded. “Cas, I’m not exactly sure what you and Dean said to each other before coming in here. But he likes you. A lot. He’s never liked anyone I’ve ever been with. Ever. Like, ever. But he’s decided he likes you, and that’s that.”

“You think you’re speaking English, but you’re really…not.”

Sam kissed his lips softly. “Angel, my brother likes you.”

“I punched him. I knew him ten minutes before I punched him. Look, my knuckles are still ripped up.”

There was a happy laugh coming from Sam’s throat now, and he shook his head. “I don’t know, man. My brother…More than anything, he wants to know you’re not fake. That you are what you say you are, and that you got a spine, willing to stick up for yourself and me. He just really hates guys that can’t look him in the eye, let alone punch him in it. You don’t put up with bullshit, and you don’t hesitate to say you care about me. He’s not all that complicated, Cas. He just wants to know you’re not an asshole. Now that he’s decided he likes you, he’s going to treat you like family. And that means bragging on you.”

“I don’t…Okay. He likes me. Good. Weird. But good. I still don’t get talking to a complete stranger about my work. He doesn’t even know anything about my work.”

He was treated to another small peck on the lips. “That isn't the point. It’s something you care about, and you’re someone I care about. That’s enough for him to be proud of it. Look, he’s only ever been a son and a brother. And Dad never gave him much chance to be a son. So if he’s going to show that you’re family, he’s going to do it as a big brother. A little obnoxious, but proud and protective. Is that a problem?”

Castiel took a deep breath. He was silent as the waitress came to deliver their coffee and a promise to return soon with their breakfast. He looked into his coffee for a time, then back up at Sam. “And that’s…that’s because that’s what a big brother does. Because a big brother would be proud enough of whatever you did to tell complete strangers about you.”

The hazel gaze pulsed with compassion. “Yeah, babe. That’s what big brothers are supposed to do.” He wrapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “And I hope that’s okay, because Dean is entirely incapable of turning it off once he’s turned it on. He’ll probably have half the staff here telling everyone at their tables about the show at the Beacon by the end of breakfast. And he’ll be entirely genuine about it. Dude still thinks I’m a great actor because I was a horrible Joe Cromwell in a really bad production of _Our Town_ in tenth grade. He told most of Kansas my LSAT scores by noon the day I got them. He doesn’t even have any clue what they mean. He just assumes that if I got a certain number, it must be fantastic.”

“You got a very good score.”

“Again, not the point. He’s proud because it’s me. And by extension, he’s proud because it’s you. So just let him do it. He’s like a daddy with a little girl in ballet. He knows nothing about dance, but he knows his kid is the best there’s ever been.”

Castiel was smiling softly. He could not help it.

“Can I deduce that your brothers will be…different?”

He cleared his throat, and the smile broadened on its own. “A bit. Your brother baited me into hitting him to see how real I was, and now he’s off boring some guy in the men’s room about art he knows nothing about because he’s proud of his little brother’s boyfriend. My brothers will assume you’re a flamboyant meathead, so they’ll be sickeningly kind and entirely fake, until they learn you’re an intelligent professional, and then they’ll turn vicious and suspicious. Your brother dislikes a guy who’s fake. My brothers will just assume they know everything about you in a glance. Sam, you’re going to hate them.”

Sam laughed quietly and kissed his forehead as Dean slid back into his side of the table.

“What’d I miss?” he asked.

Castiel sighed. “Our very sad version of _Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner_.”

“Dinner? Dude, we haven’t even gotten our breakfast.”

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head but said not a word.


	8. Pause for a Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of it all, as Michael and Lucifer descend, escorted by Gabriel, the boys take a pause for a nap.

Castiel could obviously feel the minutes tick by. It got to the point where he no longer needed access to a clock. Now that he and Dean had reached some kind of very strange understanding, he was freed up a little to worry about his own brothers descending upon the gallery in a few more hours. He began to take on a pained look, and Sam took his eyes off the road briefly to ask if he was all right.

"I'm fine, Sam," he sighed. "I am grateful. I'm truly grateful."

Sam put his hand on Castiel's arm. "Hey. You keep saying that."

He chewed on his lip ring carefully. "It's just...It's been my mantra most of my life. I think it all the time." He stared out the window. "It just doesn't usually fall out my mouth."

"Because of your family?" he guessed quietly.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "God, Sam, you and your brother must think I'm the whiniest freaking child. So I have some overbearing big brothers. So what? I've also got a trust fund and no student loan, right?"

"Cas, you're not ungrateful for recognizing that your family uses money to keep you under their thumb."

"That's it, you know? I mean, what Dean worried about me doing to you? You don't have to worry about that, because it's what they do to me. They think because our father, who I love but barely know, sends me money every month, they have the right to decide every small detail of my life. Michael found out I wanted to take my art seriously and he nearly went through the roof. By the time he learned I'm gay, it was like he wanted a paternity test to make sure we're brothers. I think if Luke hadn't shared the same womb, Mike wouldn't believe it about him either. And the truly dumb part of it is I don't think my father cares at all, one way or another. I haven't seen him since freshman year, and I don't even know for sure if he realizes I'm graduating in a few weeks."

Sam pulled the Cherokee into the apartment lot ten minutes later, and he and Castiel ascended the stairs. When the door closed behind them, Castiel sighed in relief.

"Come on. You need to sleep. We've only got a few hours."

"Can I get you off first?"

Sam turned to stare at him. "You really could have sex in the middle of all this, couldn't you?"

"Just let me go down. It'll calm my nerves."

He laughed in amazement.

Castiel touched his face gently. "God, you're beautiful when you laugh."

Sam's heart leapt at the feel of the fingertips on his skin. "Come on," he whispered. "You need to sleep. We can play later."

"You want to play now."

"Yeah. Of course I do. But you haven't slept in over thirty hours. Nap time."

He sighed with a small whine. But he had barely gotten his boots off before he was curled into Sam and snoring softly. Sam held him happily, and thought about the way Castiel had proposed in the midst of everything.

And Dean liked him. He had always assumed Dean tolerating someone would be the best he could ever hope for. He would never have said so to Castiel, but he had hardly expected even that in this case. Castiel had absolutely nothing in common with his brother on the surface. Dean was the all-American, right down to the apple pie. Castiel was an artist in army boots.

But underneath, Sam knew them each better than that. Dean was far more than he appeared. He was sensitive. He harbored piercing self-doubt and insecurities. Sam even suspected the reason he had not completely committed to Lisa was that he was terrified about what sort of father he would turn out to be for her son. In spite of everything, Dean loved their father fiercely, but he worried how alike they were. Sam, of course, knew there was nothing to worry about. Dean would be a fantastic father, if his experience as a big brother meant anything.

Then there was Castiel, who wore his heart on his paint-splattered, spike-studded sleeve. Sam had learned more about his family in the past two days than he ever had, but even long before this weekend, he had known Michael disapproved of his passion. It was not just art, not just the creative outlet for Castiel's overflowing emotion that Michael found unacceptable. It was the emotion itself.

Castiel had said on the way back to the apartment that before his trip to Nicaragua a few summers back, Michael had told him that having money meant he could help people without actually having to go to where the problems were. It had so disgusted Castiel that he had registered the next volunteer trip before he had even left on that one. When Sam had asked about Luke, Castiel had closed his eyes and leaned his blue spikes against the window and sighed, without answering.

He let his fingertips run lazily up and down Castiel’s arm. The jacket had been tossed onto the desk chair on their way in, as had the shirt. Sam had tried to lay them out nicely so they would not wrinkle, but Castiel had pulled him to the bed and thrown his weight onto him to pin him down, and immediately fallen asleep there on top of him. Sam supposed punk clothes didn’t wrinkle anyway. He wasn’t even sure what fabric those things were made out of. Leather, steel and screaming, he supposed.

Castiel was so passionate. It had swept Sam away when they had first started spending time together. It had even frightened him a little. When they had first made love, he had been overwhelmed by the flood of intensity Castiel’s storm brought with him. Sometimes it was nearly painful. Most days, Castiel seemed far older than his years, and other times, like now as he lay in Sam’s arms, he could have been a child. Sam really had no creative talent the way Castiel did, and he hoped that he was able to express with his touches and his words what Castiel was able to get across with a brush stroke and the depth of his blue eyes. 

Sam watched the clock tick away their peace. He let Castiel sleep hard for two hours, but stubbornly kept his own mind alert. He caught himself chewing on his lip, and sighed heavily. Meeting Gabriel had been an adventure, meeting Kali had been surreal. Meeting Michael and Luke? He had no idea what that would be like. Castiel was certain he would hate them, but hadn’t Castiel been sure Dean would hate him too? Maybe this was an example of his lover being anxious and dramatic for no reason. 

Somehow, he didn’t think so.

He kissed the top of Castiel’s head. “Hey. Angel, wake up.”

“No,” the heap on his chest growled.

A fond smile took over his face. “Come on. You need to get yourself all spiked out again. You have a show to put on.”

The artist jolted upright. “Fuck!”

“Shh! It’s okay! You’ve got plenty of time!”

The blue eyes were wide with panic, but when the gaze fell on the clock, he sighed in relief. “Yeah. Plenty of time.”

He laughed, and brushed wayward blue hair from his brow. “It doesn’t take you long to look pretty.”

“Why are you allowed to call me that if I’m not allowed to say it?”

Sam shrugged. “Mostly because you like it when I call you that.”

“That’s true. I do.” 

He leaned in to press his lips against Castiel’s soft ones. He licked playfully at the lip ring and made Castiel shiver.

“Okay,” the man groaned. “That’s it.” He threw his leg over Sam’s lap and dug his hands into Sam’s hair. Sam’s hands wrapped around the slender waist, and pulled him to sit, bare chest to bare chest. In this position, Castiel was very slightly taller, and he lowered his mouth to kiss, slow and deliberate, as if they truly had all the time in the world. 

It was a half hour later, when Castiel rolled away with a grin on his face, that the urgency hit again. Sam recovered far more slowly. He watched with amazement as his angel tore around the room with a newfound energy and brightened mood. 

“Get up! Come on! You know you’re going to want to shower. I could give you a tongue bath if you prefer.”

During sex, that might have sounded amazing. After the fact, it made him make a face that Castiel found hilarious. “I’ll shower, thanks.”

Castiel shrugged. “Suit yourself. And…suit yourself, please. We need to get going.”

Sam got out of bed, throwing his hands up. “You make it sound like I’m stalling! I’m waiting for blood to make it back to my brain!”

His lover nodded in false sympathy. “It must be rough being so tall.”

“Shut up.”

He could still hear Castiel’s laughter with the water in the shower running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nap and a little sex among consenting adults, followed by a shower, is exactly what should happen mid-Apocalypse, don't you agree?
> 
> ~Posing


	9. Foie Gras Faux Pas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel makes his way to the gallery.

Gabriel threw back an entire glass of champagne while avoiding Kali's gaze. He might feel obligated to be a buffer for poor cousin Castiel, but he didn't have to do it sober.

The night had begun at Bon Vivant, on Bryant Street in Palo Alto, and Gabriel was already looking forward to having pizza for dinner tomorrow. Luke had, of course, ordered the $150 caviar service, described by their waiter as golden osetra caviar, house-made blinis, crème fraiche and accompaniments. Michael was not to be outdone. His entrée was the Tournedos Rossini, described as a Hudson valley foie gras, filet mignon, gratin dauphinois, and black truffle.

Kali had looked unimpressed when Luke offered to order for her. With a searing glare at her boyfriend's relation, she spoke in flawless French to order Filet Mignon Au Poivre for herself, and then scandalized Michael's masculinity by ordering Coq Au Vin and truffle fries for Gabriel.

God, he loved that woman.

Now they were seated in the limousine, and Gabriel was well aware that he had not had nearly enough wine with dinner.

Michael scowled at him and placed his hand over his phone to hiss, "Perhaps you'd like to open the 2009 Bellevue Mondotte Bordeaux to drink like water as well. Or the 2006 Thackrey Sirius?"

"I'll stick with the..." Gabriel glanced at the bottle. "Shit. I'll stick with the 1996 Henriot Cuvee Des Enchanteleurs. Jesus, Michael. Do you drink anything that costs less than three hundred dollars a bottle?"

"Yes," he snapped. "Water." He returned his attention to his phone call and tuned out the rest of them again.

Gabriel poured another glass. "Well, then," he sighed, "let's continue drinking the good shit like water."

Luke laughed and stole his glass to enjoy himself. "Not even sure why Mike bothers with the good shit," he responded. "He obviously can't appreciate it."

Kali rolled her eyes. "But I'm sure you can."

Gabriel's stomach lurched when Luke grinned at her. Unlike Gabriel, Luke had drunk plenty at dinner. Even his dessert had been soufflé Grand Marnier.

"I know how to appreciate the good things in life," Luke promised her.

"Hm. I never knew you were so..."

"Romantic?" Luke offered.

"Pathetic," she supplied. "Gabriel, I certainly hope the ride isn't much longer. The stench of arrogant waste of oxygen is beginning to make it difficult to breathe."

God, he loved that woman.

***


	10. Off the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's so nice to have sisters. 
> 
> This chapter is heavy on the God Squad. Enjoy.

Dr. Anael had her long hair braided loosely, and she wore a gorgeous asymmetrical Bohemian skirt under a green sleeveless blouse. She looked more like an elegant gypsy than a professor. 

"You are gorgeous," Castiel breathed, pulling her in to kiss her cheek. 

"You clean up all right yourself," she said. "I'm staying about ten minutes, then I'm escaping. I reserved the studio for a half hour from now, and I need time to shower off the soulless fraud which comes with every handshake on a night like this."

Castiel grinned at her. "People discuss my art and pretend to understand as if it were necessary to understand, when it is simply necessary to love."

"Yes, well, that's easy for Monet to say, when he painted a bunch of water lily ponds that sell for tens of millions of dollars. You and I, Castiel, we are actually artists."

The man burst into laughter, and finally Dr. Anael smiled at him. "I will never get tired of imagining you teaching the great masters and destroying them one by one. Whose work would we even know if you had been their mentor? Who would still be standing?"

She considered for a moment. "Van Gogh, no question. Da Vinci. Botticelli. Gauguin, certainly. Raphael, though I'd like to have taught him a few techniques. Dalí."

"Not Picasso?"

She shook her head. "I have little patience for drama without purpose."

"Oh, but Dalí-"

"Is surreal and brilliant. Picasso was just weird."

Most of the time, Castiel could not tell if the professor was joking. But tonight, there was a sparkle in her eyes to let him know. He smiled. "My favorite will always be Anael."

"She's talented. But forgettable."

He took her hands in his. "Never. Never forgettable. Anything but forgettable."

"Dr. Anael!" a shrill voice called. "Darling, how are you?"

The older artist looked into Castiel's eyes for another moment, as though gathering strength. He gave her a wink, and squeezed her hands before releasing them. Finally, she turned toward the voice with a soft smile. "Hael! Aren't you just lovely tonight?"

Castiel laughed and wandered back to where Sam was pointing out his black crows to Dean. He stole Sam's wine and finished it in a gulp. "Did you tell him-"

"No, and neither will you."

Castiel smirked at him, then turned to the older man. "I'll tell you when he isn't listening."

Dean threw back his wine, and replaced it at the table with a new one. "Sammy, I like this guy."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'll remember these things when it comes time to renegotiate your terms, Arch."

Castiel laughed. Then he choked on his wine as a familiar face came into view in the crowd. "Oh my god."

"What is it?" Dean asked with a frown. 

A sinking feeling dropped his stomach. "From bad to worse."

"What?" Sam demanded. 

"Castiel!"

"Oh god."

The woman was intimidating, beautiful, deadly. Her smile hid lies she held in reserve just in case. She was the only woman he knew who had ever flustered unflappable Michael Arch. 

"Naomi."

She reached up to kiss each of Castiel's cheeks. He would need to check for a knife in his back if she hugged him, so he held her at arm's length. 

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to support you, of course." She looked him over disapprovingly. "You certainly haven't changed," she added with unmasked disgust. 

He tried to smile. "Did you come alone?"

"Thought I'd surprise your brother."

Castiel's smile was failing. "Using my first professional exhibit to fly across the country to check that my brother doesn't have lipstick stains on his collar. Nice. Thanks for that, Naomi."

She smirked. "Like I said, I like to support my brother-in-law."

"Like I said, thanks for that."

Naomi raised her eyebrows when she caught sight of Dean and Sam. Her eyes narrowed. "Friends of yours, dear Castiel?"

He heaved a sigh. "Dean, you wanted a rich cougar, right?"

Naomi turned a sharp glare at him. "Cougar? Just how old do you think I am, Castiel? And rich sounds just uncouth. You know better." She held out her hand for Dean to shake, which he did. 

Castiel glanced at Sam. At least Naomi had not set sights on the younger of the brothers. "Sam, Dean, this is my lovely sister-in-law who has brainwashed my brother Michael into believing she's an angel. Smart lady, though. She's CEO for Metascribe."

Sam finally looked interested. "Metascribe? The firm that handled the medical documentation suits? The one that pushed through the legislation regarding universal medical files?"

Naomi's eyes left Dean at last. "Castiel, who is your well-informed, breathtaking friend?"

There was a distinct possibility he might throw up his wine now. "Naomi, this is my boyfriend Sam, he's pre-law, and I'll need you to not sink your claws into this one, please."

"Oh, Castiel. You have such a poor opinion of me."

"That's all right, dear. You make up for it by having such an inflated opinion of yourself."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam's mouth drop and Dean's hand cover his laughter. 

Naomi gave him the least genuine of her fake smiles. "I'll just have a look around, shall I? I'm sure Michael and his parasite will be arriving any moment."

"Oh, you should know," Castiel said casually, returning the intensity and tone of her smile. "Cousin Gabriel and his fiancé will be with them."

The sneer on Naomi's lovely face was priceless. "Thank you for the warning," she muttered. Then she glanced between him and Sam again. "You know, Castiel, honestly, I think you came off the line with a crack in your chassis." She gestured vaguely to Sam. "You have never done what you're told, not completely. And if necessary, Michael and I will fix you. So don't scandalize the family too much, please?"

Blue eyes glowered evenly into hers. "Bite me."

"Oh, we'll bite. Don't worry, dear." She spared a wink for Dean and walked toward the table of wine. 

Castiel watched her go. "For a woman who is so scary her hair and clothes don't even dare move from where she puts them, she's really very beautiful. In that kill-your-firstborn-to-prove-a-point sort of way." He turned back to his friends to find them staring in shock. "What?"


	11. Starving Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean and Gabriel do their best to keep Castiel's family from interrupting his exhibit's grand opening.

Sam watched Castiel answer questions about his work, and he could see the icy blue eyes flicking about the room, following him and Dean, and keeping tabs on Naomi Haven-Arch. He also caught the twinge of wistful sadness when Castiel received a peck on the cheek just minutes into the gallery opening as Dr. Anael slipped out the door. Sam smiled at him sympathetically. Unlike an established artist like her, it wouldn't do for Castiel to simply make an appearance and then slip away. Not if he wanted this to be his entrance into the high end art world. For that, he had to mingle. Castiel was not unhappy doing so. He enjoyed talking to people who understood and appreciated art. But Sam knew he was "at the height of his stress tolerance," as he was wont to say.

It made Sam angry that Castiel's relations had made the night about them and their pettiness. Two minutes with Naomi had shown that, despite what they claimed, supporting Castiel had absolutely nothing to do with their arrival there tonight. Even for Dean, who came to corner Castiel, the secondary goal for the evening was to show support for the man in Sam's life, and to understand him better. Not so with the Arch family. They thought they already knew everything about Castiel. Sam had resented the way Naomi had let her obviously intelligent gaze take in Castiel's appearance and his relationship with Sam, and had indicated that there was something broken about her brother-in-law, and had threatened to "fix" him if he got too far out of line. Dean had never for an instant made Sam think there was anything about him that wasn't meant to be there. Dean would never suggest that any part of Sam needed fixing. Even the things he teased Sam about most, like being a nerd, were actually things Dean was proudest of.

So he wasn't surprised when Dean set down his glass of wine and squared his shoulders with Sam's. "So? What are we going to do?"

Sam smiled at him patiently. "What do you want to do, Dean? Take Naomi and his brothers outside and shake them?"

Dean appeared to be considering the potential of that plan. Sam let him. "No," he said finally. "But we can't let what just happened happen all night long. The guy's put his whole heart out here for the world to pick apart and they're going to use this entire stage to play some one percenter game amongst themselves. He obviously don't belong with that crowd."

Sam put his hand on Dean's arm. "I'm glad you think so."

"I'm glad he thinks so," Dean huffed. "Look, he wasn't worried about breaking a nail to hit me. He didn't seem to think he could dominate your decisions with money even if he wanted to, which he obviously doesn't. He doesn't act like he's better than anybody just because he's got money. And I can tell just looking around at this place that he's really serious about what he does, that he ain't afraid of hard work."

Sam smiled. "He helped build a school in the dead of summer in Haiti, for kids who had lost theirs."

Dean shrugged. "Okay, a guy like that don't need any bitch coming around, on an important night for him professionally, acting like he's an embarrassment to the family. What, because he's got blue hair and is dating a six four law student? That ain't right."

"So we'll run a bit of interference for him. How are your cougar hunting skills?"

Green eyes narrowed, and a grin of white teeth gnashed at him. "Oh, they're very good."

"Just tell Lisa it was an art experiment. Try not to actually sleep with her."

Dean gave him a look that indicated this would not be a problem. Then he straightened his suit jacket, winked at his brother, and sauntered over to where Naomi was peering up at a piece Sam loved with an expression of distaste.

It was well-timed. At the very moment Dean walked away, as Castiel was laughing quietly with a couple nearby, Sam caught sight of Gabriel and Kali leading in two men who looked at first glance as though they could have no relation to one another, let alone to Gabriel or Castiel. But as he focused on them, he could see the intense blue eyes in each strong face. One had dark features, similar to Castiel, and the other was lighter, like Gabriel. The lighter twin was about Dean's height, the darker closer to Castiel's. Gabriel, he knew, was about three inches shorter than his cousin. And all of them were beautiful.

Sam knew a little something about growing up in the shadow of an impossibly charismatic older brother. He could imagine what Castiel's childhood had felt like.

He took a deep breath and hurried to cut these men off before they could interrupt Castiel's conversation with the art dealer and her husband.

"Oh! Hey, Gabe! Kali, you look amazing as always!"

Kali, for the first time since he had met her, seemed pleased to see him. "Sam. Good. Join us." It was not a request, nor a suggestion. It never was with Kali.

Gabriel sighed. "Sam, these are my cousins Michael and Luke Arch."

The man with the dark hair reached a hand forward. "Sam, is it?"

It was not a difficult name to remember. But Sam smiled. "It is. Sam Winchester. Good to meet you, Michael."

"And you're..."

Sam glanced at Luke. The man seemed intoxicated. "I'm Sam Winchester, Castiel's boyfriend."

Michael sighed. "Is that actually what you call it? I thought partner was the acceptable term."

Kali smiled thinly. "Oh, look. Wine." She walked away without bothering to even pretend to head for the wine table. Gabriel watched her go wistfully.

"Partner is acceptable," Sam agreed. "But it's a bit impersonal, and more vague, wouldn't you say?"

Michael's smile was as false as Naomi's had been. "Sometimes that's preferable, wouldn't _you_ say?"

Sam smiled back coldly. "No. But I can see that you would."

Luke began laughing. "He's not an idiot, Mike, and he isn't a fussy flower either. So stop trying to scare the kid. Sam, excuse my brother. He's a bit of an asshole."

Gabriel cringed. "A bit?"

"Hey!" Luke snapped. "Nobody fucks with Michael except me."

Michael was practically snarling at his twin. "I'm here to show support for my little brother. Where is he?"

"He's speaking with an art dealer right now. I think he'd like a bit more time with her-"

"I've got a dealer who will handle any transactions he wants to make," Michael said dismissively. "There's no reason for him to subject himself to that nonsense."

Sam frowned. "I think it's part of the job to find a dealer you can trust personally."

Michael's eyebrow peaked, and his smile became condescending. "And that's probably important for a real artist. But my little brother is a dabbler. He always has been. And it's been fun. I have one of his pieces at my apartment in New York. But now it's time for him to move on and get serious about something. And once this show is over, we can begin taking a look at what comes next. I plan to spend breakfast tomorrow talking with him about his future."

Gabriel sighed. "Mike, he's a good artist. Look around you. He's scored an exhibit in one of the most impressive-"

"And that's wonderful, Gabriel. It's more than I've seen you do your whole life. But it doesn't make it a career, does it? I have some properties on the East Coast and I think Castiel would be quite good at managing them. He can paint in his off hours. It isn't difficult work. He could handle it. It would make him feel productive."

Sam stared without blinking. It was the most patronizing speech he had ever heard in his life.

Luke was looking at a painting near them. "Gabe, what did Uncle Ralphie used to say about art? He liked art, didn't he?"

Gabriel rolled his whiskey eyes. "Yes, Luke, and I know what you're getting at."

"He said art was one of the few things in the world that benefits from starving its maker. I thought that was kind of poetic. Cassie isn't exactly starving, is he?"

Anger flushed through Sam like a wave. "Perhaps not in the way you're insinuating," he said quietly.

Gabriel seemed to be the only one who heard. He gave him a warning glance. "Mike, just let him alone. He thinks he wants to teach. What's wrong with that? He wants to maybe be a professor someplace. That's a perfectly respectable position."

Michael gave a long-suffering sigh. He was not even looking at them anymore. His attention was turned to his phone, on which he was tapping relentlessly. "Gabriel, you're protecting him from his own family. I obviously just want what's best for him. Castiel has had his fun, but it's time for him to play his role in the family."

"And what does that entail?" Sam asked with contained fury.

At last, Michael lifted his eyes to lock onto Sam's in a dangerous glare. "If you'd like me to be honest, it will include him giving up this trendy homosexual lifestyle and acting like an adult. It will include him living as a man of his station should. It will include a departure from the childish things he's attached himself to. He has not attended the meetings held by the family attorneys for years. That doesn't mean he hasn't been a part of family discussions."

"It's sweet to know you think of me," a deep voice interjected behind him, and all four men turned to see Castiel.

Luke began to laugh. "Cassie! There's our starving artist now! We were just talking about how good the artwork is!"

Castiel glowered at him. "I heard what you were talking about, and I'd appreciate it if we could step outside for a moment. Just my brothers and me, if you don't mind, guys."

Sam sighed. He and Gabriel exchanged shrugs of defeat. So much for running interference for him.


	12. Just the Three of Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel lays it all out for his brothers.

Castiel felt that, all things considered, he had been patient. But the moment the night air hit them, he whirled on his brothers. "Go on," he spat. "Get it all out of your systems. Because you are not going back in there. So whatever you need to say, say it now."

Michael stared at him, and Luke began to laugh. "Cassie, you're so cute when you're being all irresponsible and rebellious. Makes me want to pinch your damn cheek."

The younger man glowered evenly at him. "Rebellious. That's what this looks like to you? You? When you were my age, you already had a kid."

Luke looked as though he had been slapped. "Don't you dare compare-"

It was Michael's turn to smirk. "How is sweet Jesse Turner these days? Mother still asking for money but won't let you see him?"

All humor had left Luke's face. "Of course she doesn't want me to see him, you fucking ape. You made me choose her or the rest of the damn family."

"No. I made you choose between her and the family's money, and you obviously chose what you cared about more."

Castiel nodded. "So? If you think me taking my art and my relationship with a good man seriously is irresponsible, you have no idea what the word means. You fathered a human, Luke."

Michael snorted. "I imagine Luke is incapable of fathering a mere human. Has to be at least part demon."

Luke's eyes flashed in rage. "Say whatever you want about me, but that kid has never deserved anything you have to say about him."

"He probably didn't deserve to have his father cop out by setting up a trust and disappearing either, asshat, but that's what happened," Castiel snapped. "All because Mike convinced Dad to cut you off if you embarrassed the family by legitimizing your secretary's bastard. So who is the irresponsible rebel?"

Michael snickered.

"And you! Where do you get off telling my boyfriend that my commitment to him is a trendy homosexual lifestyle? Your bitch wife is in there trying to get in the pants of a man who makes a fraction of a percentage of what you make yearly but is twice the man you are."

"Naomi is here?" Michael's eyes narrowed.

"Yeah. She came to make sure she's the only one intending to commit adultery this weekend. And now she's trying to bag my boyfriend's big brother. So you can call what I have a childish trend, which is just another way of calling it a phase, but what you have is a legitimate marriage? You want to tell me you didn't call up some of your west coast bed buddies to let them know you're in town? Real discreet, asshole. Naomi flew in to catch you, and now you have yourself a nice public conflict because I'm betting she'd rather take Dean back to her hotel suite and let you go have your own fun, but don't think she isn't going to take her pound of flesh out of your ass back in New York."

Michael was grinding his teeth, and Luke was the one snorting.

"You two are the most juvenile, petty pricks I've met in my whole life. Go ahead. Tell me you're going to cut me off from the hive. Do you even realize it doesn't even fucking work that way? I've got money in my own name, you morons! Dad's been teaching me to invest it since I was six years old! I don't go to the family attorneys because I've got my own! I spend ten hours a day on my art portfolio and another four on my stock portfolio, and that doesn't include any other investments I've got no intentions of telling you about. Unlike Luke, I'm not in this family because of the money. I'm in it because inexplicably, I love my family! That doesn't mean I plan to put up with your shit any longer. Dad and I don't talk almost at all, because he's so fed up with this screwed up family! He's ready to check out completely if you two don't turn something around fast."

Luke seemed to catch on just one of Castiel's statements. "Dad helped you invest on your own?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "No. He taught me how. I asked questions and I listened. I'm not good at statistics, but I can handle projections."

Michael was digesting all of this information, and he watched his younger brother with interest and focus Castiel was certain he had never been subjected to before. "How much are you worth, Castiel?"

"I'm worth a lot more than my dollar amount, Mike. But I know what you mean. And just so we are very, very clear about this, I will never answer that question. Especially not when you're the one asking. But Dad suspects it's more than either of you have personally."

Luke's mouth fell open.

For the first time, Castiel saw a look of respect in Michael's gaze. It disgusted him to know that the only worth he would ever have in his brother's eyes was the value of his assets. "And Sam?" he asked quietly.

"I haven't felt like I need to tell Sam about any of this yet. Until this weekend, he had no real understanding of how wealthy Dad is at all. That's why my marriage is going to be different. Unlike Luke, I will never choose money over Sam. And unlike you, Mike? My marriage isn't going to be entirely about money and power play."

His brothers fell silent.

Castiel began to walk back toward the entrance, then he turned again. "And you know what? Leave Gabriel the fuck alone too. He's played peacemaker in this family for too many years, because we're the closest thing he's got to brothers, but he's ready to give up on all of us too. You two act like we're this huge family, but we're not. Not anymore. And if you keep alienating Dad and Gabe, and you let money come between you and everyone else in the world, you know what's going to happen in the end? You two are going to grow old together, just the two of you and your money, because no one else will be able to stand you unless they're getting paid for it. Stay out of that gallery. I'll send you your wife, Michael, and you two can discuss whose beds you're both sleeping in tonight while Luke drinks himself unconscious alone. I'm going back to my own life. If either of you would ever like to be a part of it, you can try acting like family tomorrow at breakfast."

With that, Castiel stepped back into the gallery and made a show through the glass of pointing his brothers out to the sole security guard, who nodded.


	13. Lucky Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes dealing with family and money is a science. Sometimes it's an art.

Sam let Dean wrap his arms around him. He wondered if it would always be odd to have height over Dean, to not have his head resting at his brother's chest when they hugged. Would he ever get used to it? He never thought much of towering over anyone else, but it did not feel quite right to be the bigger brother. He liked to tease Dean about it, but it felt strange.

"I'm going to head out early tomorrow morning. We better say goodbye tonight."

His face fell. "Dean, man, I haven't seen you since Christmas!"

Dean smacked him on the shoulder and stepped out of their embrace. "Yeah. And I'll be back in two weeks for graduation. I can't miss work, man. I'm sorry."

He took a breath. "No, I know. Thanks for coming. I know it's an expensive drive, and you gotta be back by Monday morning." Then he frowned suddenly. "You're...you drove all last night, didn't you? I assumed you got in late last night and got a room. You didn't, did you?"

The older man waved this away. "We spent too much time in hotels over the years. I'd rather just be on the road."

"And you're not actually leaving tomorrow, are you?"

The handsome face grinned at him. "Nah. Why waste a gorgeous night inside when I could be out with my Baby?"

"You'll pull over if you get too tired, won't you?" he asked quietly.

"Of course! I'm fine. I napped this afternoon, Sammy."

"In your car."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam. Stop. I'm fine."

"And it isn't because you need money for a room?"

"Stop worrying, brother hen. There ain't nothing in the world I need. In fact, I never asked. How you doing with cash?"

Sam watched his brother reach for his wallet and dig out two twenties before he stopped him. "Dean, no. I'm good."

"I know you're good." Dean looked up at him for a long minute. "Just...here." He pushed the cash into Sam's hand. "I don't want you ever thinking, I don't know, like you gotta ask Cas for money. I know you do okay at the restaurant, and you got some stuff Dad sends you. But you need money, you come to me, okay? I don't care how much it is, you find yourself needing, you call me, and I'll get it into your account before the bank closes that day. You don't want to owe nothing to nobody. Not Dad. Not Cas. You call me. I can take care of you, and you won't be obligated to anybody."

Sam smiled at him softly. "What about you, Dean? I owe you everything."

The green eyes flashed with impatience. "Knock that off. Everything you got, you earned. I'm here to help when I can. I'm damn proud of you. And if I ever find out you needed something and didn't come to me first, I'll kick your six four ass all the way to the bank. You don't want to owe anybody. You and me, that's different."

"Why?" he asked fondly.

"Because it just is, brat. There ain't nothing I got that you can't have if you need it. And we're good. If we're going to start keeping tabs for each other, we'll start with how I'm not in prison or face down in a gutter right now because I had to take care of my kid brother. We both know that's where I'd be, living life in orange or not at all. So don't talk about owing. We're good. We're always good."

"Be careful, man. Seriously, pull over when you're tired."

Castiel came bounding down the stairs at last. "So sorry it took so long. But that Sarah person, I really like her, Sam! I can see a really good relationship with her. She's a sharp dealer, and she is a great person besides. You'll like her." He stopped and looked at Dean. "Oh. You're leaving. I thought you'd let me buy you a drink."

Sam saw Dean smiling at the clear disappointment in Castiel's voice.

"Gotta get back on the road. But you two have fun. The work in there, Cas...I don't know anything about anything, but that's some incredible work. It was cool to be able to say I know the artist."

Castiel grinned in wonder. "Did you like anything in particular?"

Dean shrugged almost shyly. "I don't know. Like I said, I don't know anything."

"But?"

"But there were two right next to one another, labeled Muse, and they were obviously two halves in a pair. Those were pretty amazing. I was staring at them for a long time. Anyway, I don't know why. I liked them."

Sam watched as Castiel's eyes shone with pleasure. "Muse, huh?" he murmured. "Those are the ones you liked?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because those are your brother. Those paintings represent Sam, and what he means to me. He's the muse. I guess I'm not surprised those are the ones that you liked. They're the only pieces on reserve. The only ones I won't sell."

Dean nodded with a smile. "You and your brothers going to be okay?"

"As okay as we ever were. I think they will back off for a while. Anyway, thank you. Really. I appreciate you being here. I'm glad to see your bruise is almost gone already."

The older man rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, be good to my brother so we don't have to go another round. I'll see you both in a few weeks for graduation, and I want to hear how the exhibit ended up."

An hour later, Sam was practically carrying Castiel to the bedroom in his apartment. The artist was singing to himself.

"She'll tell you she's an angel after you've met her family!"

Sam laughed and shushed him. "That isn't even how that goes!"

"How what goes?"

"That song! God, if it isn't punk rock, you're clueless."

"Sam," he slurred. "We did it."

"If you're referring to knocking out an entire bottle of wine after the gallery closed, that wasn't us, that was you."

"No!" he whined. "Sam, no! We lived through the opening! I didn't die of a heart attack, and you didn't dump me because I embarrassed you in front of the big brother! And Dr. Anael called me a real artist, not like Monet."

Sam glanced down at him as he heaved him onto the bed and moved to take off his boots. "Monet isn't an artist?"

"Not like a real artist."

"I think there are an awful lot of people in the world who will be surprised to hear that."

Castiel shrugged. "When I'm sober again, we are going to have so much sex."

It was difficult to take giddy, drunk Castiel seriously. "Okay, babe."

"No, I mean a lot of sex."

"Okay. Hey, Cas? What did you actually say that made your brothers storm off?"

"Told Mike that Naomi was trying to fuck your brother."

Sam burst into laughter. "Okay, but that wouldn't have made Luke mad."

"Luke isn't mad. Luke is jealous. Serves him right, okay? He wanted a relationship with Dad? He shouldn't have been an asshole his whole life. Not that that wasn't partly Dad's fault, mind you."

"But what did you say to him?"

Castiel shrugged and draped an arm over his eyes. "I just told them stop acting like they can cut me out of the family fortune, since I took my startup capital and grew it tenfold while they were dicking around playing good son bad son."

Sam paused in his task of peeling Castiel's boots off. "You did what?"

"Look," he sighed, as if he were beginning to doubt Sam's intelligence. "It isn't that complicated. I just listened when Dad tried to teach me shit instead of acting like I already knew everything, the way they did."

"So that's...that's money you earned. That's your money."

"Earned is kind of a funny word, Sam. Those folks in Nicaragua working all day in the sun earn their money. I was just kind of doing research and making inquiries and investing. It's all boring. The point is, I never wanted to rely on my family's money. My dad gave me exactly what he gave each of them. I just worked with it instead of finding new ways to waste it. Gabe said they spent almost a thousand dollars at Bon Vivant tonight. One meal for four people. You know how many meals you could buy with that if you weren't trying to show off?"

Sam sat beside him. "Jesus. Dean used to say if you can't cook a good meal for under three dollars per person, you've never been hungry enough."

Castiel nodded. "I'm not great at math, but I'm guessing it's more than four."

He looked at him in surprise. "Cas, you've always told me you aren't good with math. How do you play the stock market if you aren't-"

"That's not math," Castiel groaned as he pushed himself out of the bed. "That's money. I gotta piss and brush my teeth. Lose some clothes, will you?"

"Yeah..." Sam stood to pull off his suit as he listened to Castiel stumble around behind the door. He wondered if he could possibly be misunderstanding this whole money thing. A thousand dollars for a dinner still did not register in his mind.

By the time Castiel tripped out of the bathroom, stark naked, Sam's head was swimming. He stared at his lover.

"What? It's hot and I'm drunk. I can't be naked?"

Sam shrugged, and smirked at him. "By all means. Cas, I have a question for you."

"Oh, God, is it math again?"

He moved to make room on the bed for the man. "No, Angel. I want to know why you never told me before this weekend how much money your family has. How much you have yourself."

Castiel lowered his gaze guiltily. "Why didn't you ever really tell me how much money your family doesn't have?"

Sam turned on his side to look at him. "I've never hidden that."

"Well, neither have I. You could have googled me."

"Right. I did that from my phone while you napped today. But seriously. Why? I didn't bring up how much Dean struggles to pay our bills because...because why would I? He always makes it work. He probably went hungry, but I never did. And I'm looking at another free ride for graduate school. My whole family is just us two people, Cas. It's not family money. It's Dean's money and my money. So don't pretend I ever hid anything from you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that. But I guess I never said anything because it was...separate from us, you know? Money, either too much or too little of it, ruins relationships, Sam. I love you so much. You don't...you don't know how much I just...I just love you."

Sam kissed his lips softly. "And I love you."

"You still think you might...want to get married? To me?"

Now the man burst into laughter. "Nope. You being independently wealthy breaks the deal. I can't stand the thought of not struggling to make ends meet every month. Where's the romance if we're not living paycheck to paycheck in a hovel on the wrong side of town?"

Castiel frowned at him. "I'm drunk, Sam. Don't be sarcastic with me. Are you being sarcastic with me? Do you still want to get married?"

Sam waited for it.

"To me?"

He snickered, and rolled Castiel over top of him. "Don't ask stupid questions," he teased, then pulled him into a kiss.

Castiel sighed happily, and all thoughts of money and brothers flew from their heads as they focused only on their joined artistic expression.

**Author's Note:**

> [This was a response to an anon Tumblr prompt, and I fit it into the world of Night Musings, which was a completely different anon Tumblr prompt. Hopefully the two Nonnies don't mind sharing a world.]
> 
> Comments keep me writing! They're like cookies for writers!
> 
> ~Posing


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